I woke up early and my uncle Steven told me that before I go, I needed to have a California omelet. I'm always open to try new foods and so he made me what I will only describe as the most amazing omelet I've ever had. The California variety of omelet is full of real crab meat, mushrooms and avocado. We sat out on his patio and chatted before I left.
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It was a shame that traffic would be the way it was through the city. I wanted to see San Fransisco just one more time. Instead and in the interest of economy I went north and took one of the bridges across the bay and ended up just north of Sausilito. And then so it began: I mearged into the famous California 101; the Redwoods Highway.
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The forest was thick. While the sky was clear, and the sun was bright. At times the canopy was thick enough to block out the sun. in those moments of shade, you would even need to use your headlights.
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I felt so small in this patch of giants. These trees had seen so many years and virtually all of human history as we know it. One tree that had fallen on it's side had been marked with al sorts of dates. I could see markers that corresponded to Columbus's arrival to the Americas, The signing of the US constitution, and when man landed on the moon. Some past visitors to the park had also made their mark. On a few rings I found anniversary dates, the death of a loved one, or the birth of a child. On this great tree, many people had left their mark, and yet the tree still remained virtually barren of history.
While I won't be able to compete for as many years in the history competition with the great trees, I began to think about when my time comes and I fall. I began thinking about my own rings, and the markers people would put on them. I have many layers and like the great trees of the redwoods when I'm gone, I wonder what kinds of things I will have seen.
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when I got to shore I realized how long it had been since I skipped stones. I began searching the ground for a nice smooth flat one to throw. after finding several good candidates, I went to where the water was most calm and began tossing the rocks. after about 5 stones, I remembered the Peanuts comic strip and how Linus scolds Charlie Brown for throwing th stone into he ocean saying howlong it took for that stone to make it to the shore. I decided I wouldn't quit until I successfully skipped a stone across the river. After finally making it over to the other side I thought about the history of man and throwing stones. I was inclinded to ask...
"why do we throw stones?"
In my second year English class at my community college we read the famous short story "The Lottery," where a woman is stoned to death by her own village after her name is selected at random from a box. In the story even her toddler child is given a few pebbles to throw. This story of meaningless death for whatever reason overwhelmed my mind, and I began to explore what stones I have thrown in my life, and what stones have been thrown at me. I thought about our culture here in the USA, and how we still throw stones. We throw stones at our homosexuals, our single mothers, our poor. We throw stones at those who don't agree with us. I still can remember Republicans on the news telling America that protesting was "anti-troop" and that it would only make it harder for what they had to do. What is throwing a stone? Throwing a stone is the statement "You are not one of us," and then I thought about Mrs. Hutchenson and the Lottery, I thought about how integral throwing stones had become in our society. I decided to set the remainder of my stones down, but I kept two for myself.
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Well Space Travelers, I promise to get you caught up as fast as I can, so please don't throw any stones. Until the next chapter, ja mata ne.
1 Bumper Stickers:
Your blurb about throwing stones really moved me.
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